


I Wish That I Could...

by 09Tiff86



Series: Dramione Song-fic drabbles [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Memories, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18057248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/09Tiff86/pseuds/09Tiff86
Summary: A sequel one-shot to "I Wish I Could..." this is inspired by the song "Amnesia" by 5 Seconds of Summer.This is from Draco's POV."I Wish I Could..." doesn't *need* to be read before this, but it helps with the story.





	I Wish That I Could...

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing but the plot, and even that is tentative at best!
> 
> Unbeta'd... all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Her words repeat like the tremors after a cruciatus. Twitching pain. Stunting and stabbing. He thinks he might vomit._

She wishes she could un-fuck me?… This was just some twisted dream… it had to be _…_

_‘Bullshite!’ He barks. Still holding tightly to the witch before him, he feels the first tear fall and snarls, ‘That’s complete and utter bullshite, Hermione, and you know it.’_

_‘It isn’t.’ She snaps, words thick with emotions she was never good at hiding._

_It’s how he knows. She’s lying._

_She’s lying, but,_

_‘Why?’ He asks, unsure what it is he wants to hear in reply._

_He isn’t ready for her answer._

_‘I’m leaving.’ She states. Clear and final. Her make-up has run tracks down her face, but they’re already dry. She’d cried earlier._

Leaving? Why? Where?!

_‘Why?’ He demands this time._

She can’t leave. She has her job. Her friends. Me. She can’t leave me! Not now _…_

_‘I don’t need to explain myself to you. Not anymore!’ She roars._

_‘No.’ He says. Shaking his head, refusing to accept, he roughly grips the sides of Hermione’s face and pulls her so their bodies are flush, ‘You’re not running away from this. From us. You’re mine. I’m yours and you’re mine. You said the words-YOU TOLD ME!’_

_Feeling her clawing at his chest as she grips his dress shirt, he knows he’s as desperate as she is, and crushes his mouth against hers. Feels everything right itself even as it falls apart, but she’s shoving him away before he can really_ show _her and her wand is pointed at his chest._

_He’s confused and wary, but… she wouldn’t hurt him. Not really._

_‘I’m sorry.’ She whimpers, before, ‘Petrificus Totalus!’_

_Bound and stiff, his breath catches as he begins to tip back, but before he can slam against the floor he feels her catching him with another spell and lowers him gently to the ground. Kneels over him a second later and kisses his forehead._

_‘There’s so much I wish,’ Looking into his eyes, he watches new tears form as she cries, ‘I wish for so many things, Draco. Wished for so many things with you, but… those things can never be, not anymore.’_

_Leaving his side, he can hear her rummaging around in her room. Stepping over him to enter her washroom, she rushes back to her room with her charmed bag in tow, and he knows he’s going to lose her._

_Trying to break the spell, he screams in his head in anguish as it holds, and holds, and holds._

_When she kneels back over him for the last time she’s clothed, but her make-up is running new tracks down her face as she gently strokes his face._

_‘Don’t look for me. Don’t wait for me, because I’m not coming back. Not until I find them.’ She says and her eyes widen as he feels a tear slip free. A sign her spell is weakening. ‘Marry Astoria. Marry her and forget me, Draco. It’s the only way.’_

_Rushing away from him he pushes with everything he can and roars as he finally breaks free, but he’s too late._

_Sitting up, he’s just catching sight of her covering a sob when she’s appararted away and he has no idea where to follow._

 

 

                “Harry says Hermione’s doing fine.” Theo remarks. Giving a side-look that Draco knows he thinks is sly. “Wherever she is. Says she’s keeping busy, but she won’t tell him anything else.”

                It stings, but he’s pushing it into the box with all his other hurts before he’s even thought of it overlong. A box filled so much with her recently.

                _Was it all just a lie? Was what we had even real?_

                “And I care because…?” He asks with the sneer he’d perfected as a child.

                _How can she be fine?_

                Theo’s gaze thins, scrutinizing him. She’s been put in her box now—he can look without her showing, he thinks.

                _Cause I’m not fine at all_ …

                “I just thought-“ His friend starts, but Draco doesn’t want to talk about it.

                “You thought because you were with Potter, that he and Granger testified for me, that it meant I cared?” He asks incredulously. He does care, but Theo doesn’t know about him and Hermione. At least, not everything.

                _Nothing left to know_ …

                Potter is good to Theo though—good for him, from what he’s seen. Makes his friend smile more daily than he’s seen him do since they were children playing chase throughout the manor, and he appreciates it. He’s happy for Theo.

                Scoffing, his friend shakes his head, “Fine. Be an arsehole.”

                “You expected less?” He smirks at his friends continued frustration. Subject almost changed.

                “I expected more.” Theo states, his eyes as serious as he could ever really be.

                Draco just snorts, covering the stinging he feels at the tip of his nose signaling emotions, and turns away at the twist in his chest. Everyone always expected better of him. Expected more.

                _Not his Hermione… she could see through the smokescreen like a trained legilimens_.

 

 

                _‘I called you…” He pauses his whispers into his cup of tea, tracing the rim; back and forth, back and forth. Doesn’t want to say it._

_‘Mudblood?’ She answers lightly._

_He flinches anyways. Glares as his eyes train on hers. Her quirked brow does nothing to placate him. He wonders if his reaction was even a fraction of what she’d felt each time that slur had been slung her way. Hates that he’d been part of that group. The founder of hers specifically._

_‘Yes. Among other things.’ He despairs, wondering how she could even stand to have him in her home, let alone share tea together. ‘And I can never say enough to make it better, to tell you how sorry I am, but-‘_

_‘Maybe not. Maybe there isn’t anything you could say,’ She says, still light, but his heart pangs all the same, ‘but, I don’t need to hear them when I can_ see _… Draco, I can_ see _that you’re sorry. I know you are… and I only wish…’_

_Cheeks flaming, he’s unsure how she could possibly know. They’d barely spent more than a few hours together now since he’d stumbled up to the counter and mumbled out his mother’s book order. But he can understand… her last words._

_He nods, ‘I wish too.’_

_Sliding her hand to cover his, he freezes at her butterfly skin. Reluctantly looks up and swallows thickly as a slight smile lifts the very edges of her lips. Just crinkles the corners of her eyes. Real. Not forced._

_‘I forgive you.’ She says._

_He’s stunned. Stupified. Thinks of every name-call, every curse, every horrid thought he’d directed her way._

_Thinks of all the ones he didn’t and the shame his father made him feel when he’d been caught too long staring at her. Standing up to Lucius in that bookstore before second year began. Awed wonder instead of righteous indignation._

_His father had smacked him around good that night. Drilled in his head that a Mudblood like her needed to learn her place and that, as a Malfoy, he should be so pleased to be just the pure-blood to do it. That his father would be ever so proud that his son should properly educate the dirty magic thief of her inferiority. At least until his father’s plan was enacted._

_Until she continued to out-mark him in all his classes._

_No pride in second place. Only punishment._

_Then the basilisk was free, as he’d suspected, and he’d said he wished she was next, but left the page from the book he’d ripped it from that day at the bookstore and slipped it between the pages of one he knew she’d search for. Hoped she’d find it before anything happened, and then heard she’d turned up petrified later the next night._

_It was never a way he wanted to win. She needed to be there._

_And then Potter had won, tricked his father into freeing Dobby, and brought back his-_

_Not his. Not ever._

_He spent that summer being… reeducated. Repeatedly._

_She doesn’t know the half of all that he_ wished _he deserved forgiveness for._

_‘Forgive me?’ Inspecting the witch, he wants to call her barmy, but, ‘Granger, I don’t-‘_

_‘Did he beat you?’ She asks. Bold and to the point._

_Ever the Gryffindor, her words have caused his thoughts to stumble, wondering if she’d used legilimency for a brief moment. Checking his occlumency walls, it’s clear she hadn’t._

_‘Pardon?’ He queries, stalling until his mind can realign._

_‘Lucius, I mean.’ She says, now sitting upright in her chair, hands sliding back around her cup. ‘A man willing to kill children. I’d assume he wasn’t above abusing his own.’_

_His hand is cold._

_Ever the know-it-all._

_But…_

_Could he? Could they?_

_‘That’s not an excuse.’ He whispers—breathes it._

_Her brows furrow and he wonders if she means for her mouth to look as though the admission makes her sad. She’d be barking._

_Hermione Granger… sad for Draco Malfoy._

_‘Not an excuse,’ She agrees. Picks at an imaginary blemish on her cup, ‘but I only ever wanted to understand. To know… and I do…_ now _.’_

_‘Swot.’ He smirks despite himself._

_Watches her frown slowly curl into a smirk that could rival his own._

_‘Did you expect different?’ Her eyes flash with fire._

_He wants to burn in it._

_‘Never.’ He says._

                “Draco.” Lucius addresses him coldly. Never even acknowledges Theo.

                Not while he’s with Potter.

                “Yes, father?” Not even standing to greet him, he relaxes further into the couch he and Theo still share.

                “Have you spoken to Ms. Greengrass yet?” His father asks stonily. “Her father still believes she can be swayed, if you’ll just speak to her a bit more. Show her that you are serious about continuing with the arrangement.”

                He’s lucky Mr. Greengrass loves his youngest daughter enough to let it be her choice. Wishes he could be so lucky.

                _I wish that I could wake up with amnesia_ …

                “She can’t, father.” He drawls.

                _And forget about the stupid little things_ …

                Grows irritable in the following silence.

                “I think I’ll head home.” Theo says just a little loudly. “Let you discuss this without company.”

                He doesn’t want to be alone with his father.

                “That’s not nec-“ Draco starts.

                “Thank you, Mr. Nott.” Lucius clips, still not even looking at his friend.

                Giving Theo a pleading side-look, Draco frowns at the apologetic smile he gets in return.

                “I told Harry I’d join him for dinner.” Theo says warmly. Ignoring his father as well.

                It makes him smile genuinely.

                “Fine. Desert your best friend for the Golden Boy.” Smirking as they both stand, he elbows his friend away a bit. Sees Theo’s understanding. “Traitor.”

                Theo only winks before strolling away, giving an obnoxious salute to his father, Draco bites his cheek to keep from snickering. Ever the rebel, his friend.

                Lucius waits until the floo is done flaring and the wards of the manor mark Theo’s departure before looking at Draco. Unamused, his glare is probably meant to instill fear, but Draco hasn’t held fear towards his father since he was forced to take the mark. Since the battle at Hogwarts and he’d believed Harry had truly died. Since the Dark Lord threatened to murder his mother if he failed his task.

                Since Hermione was tortured in their home.

                No… he didn’t fear Lucius. Not in the slightest.

                Not anymore.

                “She can’t, Draco?” Lucius reiterates. Holding his cane before him, still as a statue. “Or you refuse?”

                “Both.” He gives with a shrug of his shoulders.

                Astoria deserved to marry someone who loved her. Someone who _could_ love her.

                He was ruined for a bushy-haired, know-it-all, swot. Wherever she was.

                “She’s gone, Draco,” Lucius bites out. Standing even straighter, his words are sure, “and I daresay she’ll never return, if she knows what’s good for her.”

                _How does he know?_

                Chilled to his core, Draco sneers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, father, but-“

                “Don’t play stupid, Draco.” Lucius hisses, gripping the head of his still empty cane, “You’ve never been so clever or cunning to hide it from me. Not when you were a child and not now.”

                Wiping his sweating hands down the back of his slacks, Draco swallows a few times as he wonders how much Lucius knows. But then it clicks.

                “What did you do?” He growls.

                “What I have to.” His heartless excuse for a father smirks, turns to leave, but stops to add, “What I will always do… to protect the bloodline.”

                Turning completely, Lucius marches from the room and ignores Draco as he screams, “FATHER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

 

 

                _‘Just one more page, Draco, and we can leave.’ Hermione pleads._

 _He knew her well enough now. One page easily turned to one chapter which turned to ten chapters, depending on where she already was in her reading, and blended into early morning wake-ups of her just closing her book as he wakes up from_ accidentally _falling asleep in her lap._

_It’s tempting to let her._

_‘Hermione, we’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.’ He warns._

_He can see her fingers still as she turns the page. Knows she’s realizing he’d finally said it. Said her given name._

_She’d been saying his since she’d invited him in for tea that first-time weeks ago. He could understand her reaction._

_Stepping further into her flat, he moves to see her face and to hopefully catch the tail-end of her reaction. He’s the furthest from disappointed at the sight of her eyes closed, a huge smile still plastered all over her face, it kickstarts his heart into a herd of galloping Hippogriffs. She looks as though she’s savoring it. Branding the memory in her brain._

_Eyes still closed, she whispers, ‘Say it again?’_

_Smirking regardless of her inability to see it, he silently moves until he’s kneeling before her. Appreciating the freckles peppering her nose for a moment, the galaxies dusting over her cheekbones, he decides to be a bit daring._

_Using the arm of her couch to steady himself, he leans in close, smelling her almond shampoo as he moves her hair away, and whispers into her ear._

_‘We’ll be late—OW!’ He laughs as he rubs his arm where she’s playfully struck him._

_Looking at her again, she still has her eyes closed, but she’s biting her lip now. It drives him crazy when she does it._

_He wants to bite it for her._

_Maybe she’ll let him… just once._

_But it has to be her choice._

_Moving so their faces are only inches apart, he knows she can feel his anxious breaths brushing over her chin. He can feel hers._

_‘Open your eyes.’ He says, waiting until she does, and slowly slips his hand into the soft curls at the nape of her neck. Looks at her lips, hoping she understands what he’s thinking, and freely falls into her mahogany eyes as he whispers, ‘Hermione.’_

_Dark eyes, wide and caught, she’d never looked more like a doe in a hunter’s crosshairs, and he worries he’s pushed her too far. Moved too fast._

_Until he nervously licks his lips and her eyes are watching him. Devouring whatever it is she sees, and she’s mirroring the movement. Eyes dilating, she’s a predator now. A lioness._

_And biting her lip. Again._

_‘Hermione.’ He groans._

_‘Kiss me.’ She demands._

_He’ll not be told twice._

_Leaning in slowly, still waiting for her to change her mind, he pulls her until she’s perched at the edge of her seat and gently presses their lips together._

_Closing his eyes the instant he feels her, he wonders if he’s been struck dumb. Feels stupefied just like he had the first time she’d touched him just paces away at her table. Forces himself to pull away as his mind begins to race._

_Rejoices behind the stunned walls of his mind as Hermione moves to follow him. To continue the kiss._

_It isn’t until her eyes flutter open and the fiendfyre beckons him forward that he’s rushing back in. Free-falling to catch the snitch with his heart in his throat, her lips open at the slightest touch of his tongue and they’re dancing, caressing, fighting like they did as children, but here it doesn’t hurt and he’s alright with pushing back._

_Groaning as her tiny hands grip his hair, he pulls them both to standing. Wraps an arm around her back. Lifts her so her legs belt around his hips and grinds his excitement against her jean-clad core. Swallows her whimpers, her gasps, and feels them like liquid fire as it lights him up within. Catches on the tinder of his soul._

_He wants to hold her closer than he’s ever held anyone before._

_So she’ll never slip away._

_But a ragged breath or an hour later she’s pulling away, resting all the fingers of her left hand over his bruised lips, and holding her forehead against his as their gasping breaths mingle between the small space. He watches her compose herself. Enjoys the blush that’s spread over her face, her neck, and down below her jumper. Squeezes her just shy of too tight and chokes back a moan as the hand still in his hair does the same._

_Loosening her legs, he slowly sets her on her feet. Rests a hand on her hip and holds her tightly. Compelled to keep her close. Her eyes finally drift open and, though the fiendfyre is controlled, they still promise to reduce him to ash._

_He never wanted to welcome death more, but he’d wait until she was ready. However long she needed. Plus-_

_‘We should get going, I suppose.’ He smirks. ‘We’re sure to be late already.’_

_Kissing him quick, sucking the air from his lungs as she does, she purrs, ‘Better late than never.’_

_He quite agreed._

 

 

                “My dragon.” Narcissa coos, sitting next to Draco’s curled form as he sat on his bed. “I’m so sorry.”

                He isn’t surprised.

                “You knew.” He whimpers into his knees.

                “Yes.” She says.

                “I wish that I could…” He starts, but his throat closes on the words he wants to say.

                Narcissa… always patient, his mother continues to rub his trembling shoulders.

                “I can’t marry Astoria, mother.” Feeling her arm pull him against her, he keens at the tearing in his chest, “I love her... I love her, mother, I love Hermione.”

                “I know, my son.” She whispers. Lifts his face so she can see him and says, “That’s why I’m going to help you get her back.”

                “How?” He breathes. Not daring to hope even as it takes hold.

                “Lucius. Lucius has her parents. From what I’d gathered she relocated them before the war, to protect them, but your father figured out where they were.” She sniffs, wiping his cheeks a bit, and then steals herself before saying, “But I know where they are too, and you’re going to do exactly as I say to save them.”

                “Tell me everything.” He says.

                Smiling proudly, his mother asks, “Theo is seeing Mr. Potter, is he not?”

                Draco just smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I plan to write a "conclusion" to this, but I need to figure out the song and a few other things first.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading.
> 
> Let me know what you think, if you're feeling so inclined.


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